


Rogue Locks

by Arista_Holmes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Pre-Relationship, Swearing, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arista_Holmes/pseuds/Arista_Holmes
Summary: When Ghilana's short cut locks begin affecting her archery on the long march across Ferelden, she loses her patience and tries to do something about it, much to Leliana's horror. Luckily, for the pair of them, Zev knows a thing or two about personal grooming.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Kudos: 25





	Rogue Locks

“ _Fenhedis_!” Ghilana cursed, her arrow going wide of the rabbit, and hitting a tree trunk with a deep solid thunk that told her instantly she wasn’t getting that arrow back.

She glared at the arrow for a long moment before turning on her heel and heading back towards where the others had set up camp for the night, slinging the bow across her back as she went and snatching up the four rabbits she’d already collected.

Leliana would just have to dip into their small collection of rations, she grumbled to herself as she stepped lightly through the underbrush, barely disturbing her surroundings even in her frustrated state.

They’d been on the road for weeks now. Since Ostagar and Lothering, the group had made their way to the Circle of Magi, saved the mages from an infestation of demons, blood mages and Templars thirsting for the Right of Annulment. They’d had an Antivan Crow attempt to kill them, recruited said assassin, and saved the small village of Honnleath from a Darkspawn attack when they’d gone south in search of a Golem.

Now that the mages were safe though, their allegiance pledged to the remaining Grey Wardens, their small group should be heading for Redcliffe and Arl Eamon. Offering the, by all accounts sickly, human Lord the use of their mage healers, if he would only pledge his own soldiers to the cause against the blight.

Instead, Alistair had suggested that they go to Arl Eamon with more than just a handful of mages to help, and Leliana had agreed quickly, spinning marvelous tales of the valor of the dwarven warriors and singing songs of their skill in battling Darkspawn.

Between the two of them giving the Cousland girl pleading eyes, Lana found herself travelling North-West along the Gherlans Pass, attempting to hunt rabbits in the snow with her blood-red hair grown to such an extent from their enforced long march that she could no longer shoot straight.

She uttered a few more choice curses in Elvhen beneath her breath as she stalked into camp, and dropped the pitiful hunt beside Leliana. Her narrowed eyes dared the other woman to comment on the catch, but she barely waited for the bard’s reaction, swapping her bow for her daggers, and moving towards the edge of the lake they had camped beside.

“Lana? What are you doing?” Leliana asked, following her and the Dalish elf huffed with annoyance.

“Cutting my thrice-damned hair so we don’t starve to death before we reach Orzammar. We’ll need more than a couple of rabbits once the snow in the mountains begins sapping our strength,” Ghilana all but snapped at the Orlesian, but it seemed the other woman had only heard the first part of her answer anyway.

“Cutting your- With _daggers_?!” Leliana exclaimed, horrified, and immediately attempting to snatch the blades from Lana’s hands. 

Any other day or time, Ghilana would have sidestepped her fellow red-heads attempts, but a combination of the lunge being entirely unexpected, and the fact that her hair had fallen into her eyes, again, meant that Leliana was able to pull the Dalish Elf to a halt both of them grasping the hilts of the weapons, and neither of them relinquishing their hold.

“You can’t!”

“Of course I can, don’t be ridiculous!” Lana snarled, tugging at the knives, and mentally groaning when Leliana’s cries drew eyes from across the camp.

Some of them were too new to know whether to get involved or not, while Alistair and Briar had been dealing with her prickly nature since the beginning and knew to leave well enough alone. 

Zevran, on the other hand, had been travelling with them just long enough not to know better, and had just enough mischief dancing behind his eyes to get involved.

To make matters worse, he’d clearly just finished bathing in the small lake as he appeared out of the quickly gathering night, chest bared and blonde hair still dripping with his shirt in his hands.

“Well, well, if you two are going to fight, you should perhaps wait until we are in a town somewhere. Charge a fee… maybe in your undergarments… in a muddy field…?” he teased, eyes dancing with mirth and his accent wrapping around the words in a way that made Lana’s skin tingle.

“Zevran, _please_ talk some sense into her!” Leliana exclaimed, unphased by the elf’s flirtatious nature, “She plans to cut her gorgeous hair with knives!”

“Knives?” Zev asked, surprised but not seeming nearly as bothered by the concept as Leliana, and after a moment he chuckled before shaking his head, and tutting softly.

“My, but you Fereldens do have strange ways of going about the simplest tasks-” he started, and Lana finally lost her temper, releasing her grasp on her draggers and spinning on the blonde elf with narrowed eyes.

“I am not _Ferelden_ , I am Dalish,” Lana growled, teeth clenched and jaw set in frustration.

“If we were in the Free Marches, I would go to the nearest town and purchase a set of the double-bladed tools they use for such a purpose, but we are not, we are in Ferelden where they use a sharp, fine-edged blade. More importantly, we’re camped within a stone’s throw of the Imperial Highway, with not a village or town for days, and since it appears I’m the only one of us who knows how to hunt, I need to be able to see what I’m shooting!” Lana finished sharply, amber brown eyes flashing when Zev smiled, barely smothering a soft indulgent laugh.

“Just tie it back,” Leliana exclaimed, clinging to Ghilana’s daggers now that the woman had relinquished them in her exasperation, but she continued before the Dalish elf could do more than take another breath in to continue arguing and her next words made Lana freeze.

“Didn’t your mother teach you how to braid it?”

Ghilana was glad that she hadn’t turned to face Lelian then. The sudden and unexpected mention of her mother had shocked her, and if anyone was going to spot the sudden flash of pain that spasmed across her face, she could easily admit that she was glad it was Zev.

Besides, Leliana had been a Bard. She had no need to see Lana’s face to know that she’d crossed some kind of unseen line. The tension in Ghilana’s shoulders and the elf’s sudden silence told her that.

“I… I didn’t…”

“Since you appear to have lost access to your daggers, allow me to assist, my dear Warden,” Zev cut in and slowly Lana turned her gaze from where it had shifted to the surrounding forest, in an attempt to avoid the explanation she was sure she was about to be dragged into, and let her amber eyes settle on Zev once more.

“... Assist?” she asked, and Zev smiled gently. It was a soft twist of the lips that he occasionally shared with her, but never for long.

“With your hair.”

Lana considered him for a long moment, eyes narrowing again as she wondered at the motivation behind his offer, but when she heard Leliana quietly step back and head towards the fire and the abandoned rabbits with Lana’s blades still in her grasp the Dalish elf nodded once.

“Excellent,” Zev announced lightly, turning back towards the lake and after huffing out a resigned sigh, and pushing a few more errant locks of hair off her face, Lana followed after him.

They didn’t go far, just far enough to be out of sight, and for Zev to settle on the ground and beckon her forward to sit in front of him.

Ghilana hesitated a moment and the assassin’s features hardened in response.

“In this, I’m afraid you must trust me not to stab you in the back,” he admitted, voice as playful as ever but there was a layer of hurt beneath it that made her blink in surprise.

“No, Zev that wasn’t…”Lana sighed, and settled herself in front of him, taking a moment to pull her boots from her feet so she could dip her toes in the lake before she continued, “I don’t believe you’re going to betray us… me,” Ghilana said softly and after a moment, Zev shifted forward.

He settled her between his legs, one stretched out beside her with his thigh against her hip, the other bent at the knee, his boot braced against the ground and Ghilana let her arm curl around his calf before she spoke again.

“I hesitated because…”

His long fingers slipped into her hair then and slowly began dragging through the blood-red locks. When Duncan had taken her to Ostagar, the messily cut strands had done nothing to hide away her ears, but as Zev gently stroked the knots and tangles from the strands, she could feel the longest parts brushing her shoulders. 

“Because?” the Antivan prompted, and Ghilana blushed when she realised the feel of his fingers had silenced her explanation.

“No one has braided my hair since I was a fledgeling…” she admitted softly, but whatever else he heard in her voice, Lana felt the tension leave the air around them and she sighed, letting her eyes fall closed.

For a long moment, they sat in peaceful silence, Zev gently taming her hair with his fingers, and Ghilana allowing herself to bask in the attention, the affection of being taken care of. 

“Do you trust me?”

Ghilana hummed a soft agreement at the mans question and didn’t bother opening her eyes, his amused chuckle drawing a smile to her own lips and she didn’t flinch when she heard a knife being drawn.

She did blink her eyes open in surprise when she felt the familiar sensation of hair being cut though, especially after the argument with Leliana and Zevran’s teasing.

“What are you doing?” she asked, curiosity in her voice as he tugged on another section and slowly sliced through it.

“Making it all the same length,” Zev answered, voice just as quiet as her own, “While it is enticing that you always look as though you have just stumbled from bed after a night of wild passions, such differing lengths will not make braiding your hair any simpler,” he explained with his usual charm and flirtation returning full force, and Ghilana laughed softly, aware of and ignoring the flush his comments brought to her cheeks.

“With a knife?” she teased back, feeling his soft laughter at her back more than hearing it.

“Yes, my dear Warden, with a knife. As you so eloquently pointed out, we are not in a position to procure anything better suited to the task,” Zev admitted and the pair of them fell back into a comfortable silence.

Ghilana knew he wouldn’t press the issue about her mother. He wouldn’t ask her why Leliana’s casual mention had caused her such pain, and he wouldn’t question why she chose to wear her hair so short when a Dalish warrior’s braids often told the story of their hunts.

It was exactly because she knew he wouldn’t ask that she suddenly, desperately wanted to tell him.

“My clan… I was always told that my parents had died,” Lana started softly, and while Zev’s hands paused momentarily, he quickly continued. His movements were slower and he was clearly listening, but she was grateful for his casual display of nonchalance.

“My father… he was the Keeper of our clan. A band of humans and… and city elves killed him,” she continued softly, stumbling slightly as she reminded herself not to use the term ‘Flat-ears’ around her non-Dalish companion.

“That was before I was even born… and my mother, they told me she died too, but nothing more than that… Ashalle raised me,” Ghilana continued, her voice quiet but this far from camp, and with the stillness of the night closing in, she had no need to speak louder.

“I knew she wasn’t my mother, they never hid that from me… and she used to braid my hair, and sing me to sleep like any mother should. I loved her. Love her... only…”

“Only, despite everything, she is not your mother,” Zev finished when it seemed Lana couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. 

“I felt guilty about that,” Lana whispered “She should have been enough… but I didn’t want her to pretend to be my mother when she wasn’t. I loved her because she was Ashalle, and she loved me when she didn’t have to… so I cut my hair short so that she wasn’t forced to spend every morning braiding it for me…”

Ghilana startled slightly when Zev’s arms slid around her waist, and tugged her back against his chest, his chin against her shoulder, and pressed his lips against her cheek. 

“You were a child,” Zev said softly, lips still against her skin, and Lana sighed, letting the warmth of his body relax her.

“Yes,” she agreed, “but I never told her. I was ashamed I had ever thought such things as I grew older, and so I kept my hair short so she never had reason to ask about my change of heart… and so…”

“And so, you never learned to braid it yourself,” Zev finished, catching the threads of her story, and Ghilana shrugged the shoulder that he wasn’t resting his head against.

“I thought to tell her… after Duncan recruited me, after I was tainted by the Darkspawn and destined to leave the clan, I wanted her to know. Wanted to apologise…”

“But?” Zev prompted when Lana stalled again and watched the young woman bite her lip, her expression thoughtful while her eyes were a thousand miles away, lost in the memory she was relaying.

“When I went to her, to speak with her… My mother didn’t die,” Lana said softly, and Zevran was very careful not to react, watching her features intently.

“I mean… I suppose she might have, eventually… but… she gave birth to me and then… she just left. Walked off into the forest one night and never came back to the Clan, and they never told me. I never knew.”

“Would it have changed anything if you had?” Zev asked and Lana sighed, brows furrowing in thought.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not… the point is, I was confused and frustrated and even a little angry… I didn’t tell Ashalle, and now… with the Darkspawn and the blight… I might not get the chance…”

“Ah, so you wish to keep your hair a short, tousled mess in honour of this Ashalle?” he asked, smothering a smile at the blush his teasing always brought to her cheeks. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, he had come to learn. In fact, the Dalish in his arms often teased him just as much in return, but she couldn’t seem to control her blush, regardless and, he admitted to himself, it was utterly charming.

“Is that so strange?” Lana asked, and it took Zev a moment to pull his mind from her features and back to their discussion.

“Not so strange, no,” he admitted, considering for a moment what he could say to comfort Ghilana, “What did this Ashalle do when you hacked off your hair, as I suspect you did it away from your guardians?” he teased, watching her lips twist into an amused smirk that confirmed his suspicions.

“Well, the knife slipped… I have a scar on the back of my neck still… so she took one look at me, neck covered in blood, and after making sure I wasn’t dying, she helped me cut away the rest of it,” Lana said, eyes sparkling with mirth, “and then instead of braiding it for me every morning, she sat with me just as we are now, and brushed it.”

“And do you think a woman like that, so supportive of your choices, even though you were, clearly, already a rebel child, would care one whit if you chose to learn how to braid your hair now, away from her care?” he asked gently, a note of uncertainty in his voice that made Lana smile, knowing he’d taken a risk in attempting to comfort her.

“No. No I don’t think she’d mind at all,” the Dalish elf admitted a moment later and Zev smiled, releasing his arms from around her waist and pushing her to sit upright once more.

“Very well then, I shall instruct you to the very best of my abilities,” he teased, and Lana grinned softly before it softened into a smaller smile that she tossed over her shoulder at the assassin.

“Zev, do you think you could braid my hair in the mornings before we pack up camp?” she asked softly, “just until I learn how to do it myself…”

“My dear warden,” the Antivan all but purred, “I have seen you stumble around camp before the sun has risen, are you inviting me into your tent each morning, before you are awake enough to defend against my charms?” he teased, watching her blush again, in spite of the wicked smirk growing across her features.

“Not at all,” Lana shot back, “I figured I’d invite you in the night before, have you braid my hair before we emerge for the day… Saves time, you see, and there’s no stomping across the snow-covered camp once we’re up in the Frostback Mountains,” she teased, and Zev studied her for a moment, an eyebrow raised.

“You are… genuine in this request?” he checked, and the laughter in her eyes softened until she nodded, a simple confirmation of her invitation.

“I am,” Lana whispered, and Zev offered her a smirk to mask sudden storm of almost unrecognisable emotions in his chest. 

“Then perhaps we should return to camp before I ravish you by the lakeside,” he purred, and Lana laughed.

“Giving up on my hair then?” she teased, pulling her feet from the water, and collecting her boots in one hand as she stood, willing to pad back into camp barefoot.

“It is neatened, and I shall braid it for you in the morning, Lana,” Zev promised, lifting her free hand to his lips, and kissing the back of it playfully, forcing himself not to smirk at the sudden flare of interest in her amber eyes. 

“Come now, we should head back before Alistair consumes all of the rabbits you tracked down for our dinner.”

He released her hand then and turned back to the camp, but Ghilana took a moment to pull in a deep steadying breath. She’d known Zev was going to be trouble the moment he’d woken up and proceeded to call her utterly gorgeous, while held at knifepoint, and now she had just invited him into her bed.

She _did_ trust the assassin, despite his profession, but Ghilana took a single moment, alone in the dark, to close her eyes and pray to the creator’s that she knew what she was getting herself into.


End file.
